Incompatible
by faithful24
Summary: - REWRITE OF "A DANGEROUS GAME OF LOVE" - Four Eaton's entire life has only ever focused on gangs and how to survive the streets he lives on. Beatrice Prior, on the other hand, is the definition of perfect, from the top of her hair to the tip of her toes. But when these two unexpectedly clash, it's pretty obvious that they're incompatible. At least, that's what the world thinks.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Before anyone starts roasting me for not updating my other story, I promise I'll do it soon! I've just been really lazy, so my apologies.**

 **Anyway, I was suddenly inspired to rewrite my old and deleted story, "A dangerous game of love." Yes, it will be slightly different but there will still be some similarities. BY THE WAY, if you have read that ancient and deleted story of mine, could you PLEASE be an angel and notify me of what had happened or even the timeline of the story. Because I HAVE FORGOTTEN some of it. Thank you and enjoy reading! I apologise in advance for any mistakes.**

* * *

FOUR:

The pitch-black curtain that draped over the sky did nothing to soothe my wariness.

The wind whistled violently as it rushed by me and the meagre source of light that radiated from the crescent moon, illuminated only the path ahead.

I felt a slight shiver climb up my spine.

It was the worst type of features for a night like this.

The heavy darkness only added to the already dangerous hood. The moonlight did little in assisting my vision and the deafening howls of the wind obfuscated my hearing.

Already, 2 of my 5 senses were tampered with by the uncontrollable forces of nature.

And I needed all 5.

Especially in a place like this. It was a form of weaponry, just as important to our survival as any gun or dagger.

When my feet arrived on familiar ground, I travelled its long and winding road. With my hoodie up, my face hid as few cars and motorbikes zoomed passed.

Even when I felt their stares, I continued walking, attempting to attract minimal attention.

As more houses blurred, my pace increasing, all of a sudden my feet skidded to a halt.

My blood froze as I spotted the open curtains and the bright light that came from an all-too-familiar building.

I instantly broke off into a sprint.

As quickly as I could, I approached the house and grabbed out my spare key. As I placed it into the keyhole, I found myself pausing again.

My mind was violated with voices that instructed me to remain calm. Nothing good was bound to happen if I rushed, they spoke. And although, I was anxious to enter, I took a deep breath in and took on a slightly calmer approach.

I opened the door slowly.

It creaked as I stepped into the eerily quiet home.

Shutting the door as silently as I possibly could, I inched down the hallway. It seemed a lot further than I remembered.

I cleared my throat.

"Hector?" I called out.

No reply answered me.

I felt myself unintentionally gulp as the continuing silence lingered.

"Mom?"

Still nothing.

Just as I reached for the gun that was strapped to the waistband of my pants, a door in the house slammed. Its sound echoed throughout the building so loudly, that I was sure that the neighbours heard it as well.

Swiftly spinning, I instinctively pulled out the gun and aimed it at my victim.

He merely stood there, staring back at me for a second, before his shoulders drooped into a relaxed state.

"What's up, Four?" he casually greeted.

I silently cursed and lowered the weapon.

I was satisfied that the panic was fading but I was more consumed with irritation to resolve anything calmly. "What the hell, Hector?!" I instantly yelled at him.

His brows furrowed in confusion. "What?"

My jaw clenched as I tried to contain my anger. "Didn't you hear me call for you the first time?" I hissed.

He mumbled something under his breath before finally responding aloud. "Yeah" he muttered.

The fury bubbled slightly. "Oh, so you did hear me then?"

My voice, by now, had entered into a familiar state: quiet and intimidating. Usually, it gave off my desired effect - by arousing fear within my victim - but it never seemed to work on my own little brother.

Instead, he glared right back at me, matching my own heated stare. "So what? What's the big deal?" he asked as he advanced forward.

He tried to enter the living room - which entrance I stood in front of - but I quickly extended a hand and blocked his path.

His gaze glanced up to meet mine. My stare hardened.

"The big deal is," I started off, silently, "if I call for you, you answer me. Do you understand?"

Only when he sensed the seriousness of my tone, did the fear begin to rise.

He steadily gulped before nodding vigorously in response.

"And another thing," I added scoldingly, "what did I tell you about the curtains?"

He rolled his eyes at this, the attitude returning now. The fear, I assumed, was forgotten.

"To close them at night" he answered lazily as he rolled his eyes. My arms folded as I stared him down.

"Exactly. So why are they open?" I questioned.

He didn't answer this time. Only scowled at the floor.

I sighed quietly.

For such a bright kid, he didn't seem to fully understand the extent of how dangerous this neighbourhood actually was.

It didn't matter that we had been raised here since our younger days.

The streets would _always_ be dangerous.

It was the same yesterday, today and everyday after that.

I shook my head slightly. "Go close them" I ordered. His grimace became more pronounced as he heard the instruction.

"Why don't _you_ do it?" he growled at me.

I instantly poked his forehead. For a second, he almost lost his balance but he swiftly managed to compose himself. "Less lip," I said, "and more obedience. Now, go close the curtains."

As I let him pass, his glare never wavered. He murmured the entire walk to the living room but I didn't bother to comment.

Instead, I asked about the whereabouts of our only parent. He replied with, "She's in her room."

Nodding to myself, I took a seat at the kitchen table and watched as he slid the curtains smoothly over the window.

A satisfied breath escaped my mouth. Hector didn't seem to know it, but with both the curtains open and the light on, the inside of our home - our sanctuary - was exposed.

Now there may not be anything valuable that others would be tempted to steal, but it does leave our home vulnerable, a feat we couldn't afford.

Obviously, it would be easier if I could just explain this to him. But every time, I tried to, I found that the words were always stuck in my throat.

I couldn't do it. I didn't want him to worry. Not at such a young age.

Once he was done following my instructions, he attempted to walk off when the home phone suddenly rang.

I instantly frowned. We rarely ever received calls, let alone at a time so late at night. My senses sharpened.

My brother instinctively looked over at the ringing phone and began to take a step towards it.

I immediately growled at him.

"Do _not_ touch it" I demanded authoritatively.

His lips once again formed a frown before he decided to stalk off to his room. His stomps echoed throughout the house.

I shook my head before approaching the phone myself. Slowly, I picked it up and cautiously placed it to my ear.

"Hello?"

Again, silence followed.

I was about to repeat the greeting when all of a sudden,

"Four?"

The familiar voice allowed me to relax only slightly. But still, I grimaced at the unnecessary panic that he had caused.

"Shit, Zeke. What took you so long to answer the bloody phone?" I growled.

From the other end of the line, he chuckled softly. "My bad, man. I was just calling to check up and see if you made it home alright."

I sighed and nodded, even though he couldn't see it. "Yeah, I'm good."

For some reason, I could picture his idiotic smirk. "Good. How's little Hector doing?"

I scoffed. "The smartass is fine."

"Smartass, huh?" he replied. I could detect a hint of mirth in his voice. "Sounds like a mini you" he then said.

"I wasn't that bad as a kid" I responded. But he only chuckled some more.

"Sure, sure" he answered. "Anyway, that's all I called for. I better get going though. Mom's beginning to get on my nerves about something. But I'll see you tomorrow, at school?"

"Yeah, I'll see you then" I responded. And with that, the line went flat.

Placing the phone back onto its ringer, I sighed before heading off to make sure the house was locked and secured.

When I was sure it was safe enough, I went to bed with my gun resting atop of the drawer next to me.

-.-.-

When the sun arose the next morning, I was already in the kitchen with breakfast already made.

My mom had already gone to work and so it was only my brother and I left at home.

I instantly called out to him as the morning rays shone through the window.

"Hector, you better be up!" I yelled. "I'm leaving for school in 10."

Like the day before, he didn't answer. I gave him a few more minutes to respond. But when I sensed no sign of receiving a reply any time soon, my jaw clenched.

"Hector!" I shouted.

I turned, attempting to walk down to his room, when the sudden sight of him stopped me.

He was fully dressed with his backpack slinging over one shoulder and a scowl engraved on his face. "I'm right here" he growled.

A frown of my own appeared. "What did I say yesterday about answering me when I call for you?" I hissed.

His eyes averted to the side, still in glaring form. "Can we not do this so early in the morning?"

I sighed heavily. "This wouldn't be such a pain if you just used your mouth" I replied before placing a plate of breakfast on the table. "Now come here and eat."

Obeying, he took a seat at the table and started breakfast. While he did, I quickly grabbed my own bag and packed a few books that hardly had anything written in them.

By the time I was done, so was he.

Securing the house, we then drove off. I dropped him off to middle school, with the promise that I would pick him up.

It was a good thing that my high school was close. It was only about a 10 minute drive away, and that was when there was heavy traffic.

I arrived to school a few minutes after Zeke and Uriah did. When they spotted me, they approached my car and knocked on the window three times.

I glanced up to be met with their wide grins.

My eyes rolled upon seeing their expression.

I could never understand how gang members such as themselves could be so... _smiley_ most of the time.

Hopping out of the car, both brothers greeted me with the usual handshake.

"What's up Four?" Uriah spoke as I slung my bag over my shoulder.

I shook my head. "Nothing much" I answered.

As we walked side by side, people instantly began to move out of the way, giving us more space than we needed.

Without having done anything, we evoked fear.

It came with the title.

Although it was natural and a general thing for people to avoid us, there were a few students who liked to test the limits, though that was a minority.

In fact, there they were, passing by us in the corridors.

And before I knew it, the trouble had started.

In Zeke's hand already, he had a fistful of Drew's shirt. It all happened so quickly that I almost missed it.

His usual grin was now replaced with a menacing glare as he towered over one of the school's precious football jock.

"Bump into me one more time, kid" he growled. "I dare you to."

Silence immediately befell the hallways.

His threat hung in the air as the atmosphere tightened.

Drew visibly gulped though he tried hard to keep up his bravado facade.

I silently scoffed when, from the corner of my eye, Hayes moved towards the pair.

"Let go of him" he instantly demanded. Zeke's glare turned to him.

"Or what?" he spat back, unfazed by either males.

Peter's eyes narrowed thin. His jaw set as he inched forward.

"Let _go_ of him" he repeated. Zeke, deciding to taunt him, tightened his grip.

With Peter's anger flared by the action, he suddenly withdrew his arm and attempted to throw a punch. However, it froze midair when I stepped in between them.

His pause at the sudden interference was short. And after having composed himself, he growled.

"Move out of the way, Eaton" he then ordered.

A sardonic smirk plastered my face when I heard the command.

"How about," I steadily began, "you make me?"

When he met my taunting gaze, he glared and changed the direction of his punch.

Having already anticipated it though, I managed to slip passed it, ultimately dodging his fist. And then quickly grabbing his arm, I moved myself into his reach and flipped his body overhead.

He landed to the ground with a loud thud.

A few gasps emitted from the crowd but I ignored it and instead, stared down at the green-eyed male.

He seemed shocked by the action but his usual sneer made an appearance once again.

Both Pedrad's, by then, had pulled up beside me and was doing the same, glancing down at him with a glare.

Before anyone could have made a move though, a sudden commotion was heard from the crowd. And an extra person flew into the 'interaction'.

I refused to call this a fight.

She kneeled down next to the football captain and checked to see if he was _badly_ injured.

The blonde signature ponytail instantly gave away her identity: Tris Prior, Peter Hayes' girlfriend and the girl - besides her stepsister - who everyone thought was the epitome of perfection.

I scowled down at her crouched figure. The sight of her irritated me. _Hearing_ about her irritated me.

She was what my people would call fake.

There was no perfect human being. Yet there her family was, walking around as if _they_ were.

Suddenly snapping out of my thoughts, she then stood up. She faced us with a fearless expression, her eyes, angered.

"What in the world is your problem?" she reprimanded.

I grunted before taking a step closer to her. She didn't move.

"I don't have to answer to you" I responded quietly. And without leaving any room for a reply, I pushed passed her, the Pedrad's right on my heel.

She scoffed as we sauntered away.

Thinking that was the end of it, I turned to speak to Zeke, when she unexpectedly called me out.

"You're a coward" she spoke up. And though she had trailed off quietly in the end, her words were, without a doubt, deafening. They rang in my ears over and over again.

I halted to an abrupt stop.

"Bullying is a sign of cowardice" she went on. "And that's _exactly_ what you were doing."

I frowned slightly.

I didn't expect myself to be impressed by the fact that she was taking a stand.

But I was also _really_ annoyed by her words.

She was siding with her boyfriend merely because of that; their relationship.

She left no space for explanation.

And the thing was, even if I wanted to explain myself to her, I knew it would be useless.

There'd be no point in arguing my case any further because it was always their word against ours.

But the cowardice line had been a direct jab. And unconsciously, my teeth gritted as I turned to face her.

Her blue/grey eyes refused to back down as my own stare found hers.

"Maybe you should get your story straight," I called out, " _before_ you start pointing fingers at who the coward is."

And without any further words, Zeke urged me to keep moving.

I listened and we resumed our walk to our lockers. The crowd dispersed after that, though there was still a bit of talk going around, about it.

As I waited for both brothers to grab their required books, two arms suddenly wrapped around my waist.

Her head leant against my shoulder. I instantly knew who it was.

"I heard what happened" she whispered into my ear sexily. I sighed quietly as she went on. "Do you want me to beat her ass?"

Despite myself, I slightly smirked as she fiddled with the hem of my shirt.

Not one for PDA though, I stopped her fingers from roaming before pulling her to stand beside me.

I glanced down at her as she grinned at me, confidently. Her black hair was straightened, though the ends - which were dyed blue - was slightly curled.

"You know, you only have to say the word, Four," she then continued, "and I'll fight her for you."

I didn't have a single doubt about that.

Lauren was dangerous.

To everyone on the streets, she was my ride-or-die. She even called herself that, though I, on the other hand, wasn't quite certain.

Sure, she defended me, like every other hood girl did with their men. But something wasn't quite right about calling her my ride-or-die.

Quietly clearing my throat, I then answered. "Nah, it's all good" I told her.

She instantly pouted.

"Are you sure?" she asked, doubtfully. "You _know_ , I will do it."

I sighed. "Lauren" I warned.

But at this, her lips turned downwards into a frown.

"Well then, why do you look so annoyed?" she hissed at me.

My brows instantly furrowed in perplexity. "I'm not annoyed."

She rolled her eyes. "Four, I've known you all my life. And we dated for a year. Trust me when I say, you're annoyed."

I didn't respond, causing her to sigh dejectedly. It wasn't long though until her mischievous grin returned.

"You know," she then said, as she laced her fingers with mine, "I could always relieve you."

I shot her an admonitory look. "Lauren."

But her smirk only grew. "Oh c'mon Four" she said as she tightened her grip. And as she dragged me along with her, she added, "You need it."

Even though, I called her name out again in warning, I allowed myself to pulled by her.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:**

 **Do I still have some readers for this story? Cos if not, totally understandable considering I've been MIA for a while lol I'm so sorry for keeping you guys waiting but I'm back now... I think. Anyways, hope you guys enjoy the chapter. Personally, I don't like it but I wanted to get something up so... happy reading you guys!**

TRIS:

The crowd quickly dispersed the minute Four and his lackeys left the scene. Almost as if their involvement was the only thing worth investing their time in.

But as I watched their retreating backs, I couldn't help but feel a surge of anger bubble from the pit of my stomach. They were all so infuriating. Four Eaton, especially.

In all my years at Divergent High, I had never had an encounter such as this. And with Eaton, of all people.

Not once had I spoken a word to the guy, let alone looked him in the eye.

I didn't dare to.

I mean, he was just _so... approachable_.

Like a bed of nails.

Apparently, I wasn't the only one who thought so as well.

The entire school shared my opinion. And so avoidance was all we could ever do in matters concerning them.

Seemingly though, they approved of this notion. If their dark smirks were anything to go by.

They weren't hard to differentiate from a crowd. Although they dressed entirely in black - the very absence of colour - they stood out.

And despite not knowing anything about them (nor wanting to), the atmosphere that constantly encompassed them was enough to speak on their behalf.

Their presence was demanding and fear provoking. Eaton, more so.

The warning was loud and clear. And that very same aura prompted students to move worlds across, just to steer clear of them.

I could understand why.

There was a dangerous feel to them that was spine chilling.

A little intriguing.

But dangerous nonetheless.

I was aware of all this. I felt the fear that resonated from the surrounding students.

I knew about the enmity between Peter and Four that had started out in their Freshman Year. And I voluntarily chose to stay out of it.

I wasn't a fan of confrontations. I shied away from them as much as possible because to stare hostility in its face while being put on the spot was intimidating.

Which is why I couldn't, _for the life of me_ , fathom why I had unexpectedly intervened between the two.

Them fighting was a normal occurrence. So why had I suddenly jumped into it?

I couldn't make sense of it. It just... _happened_.

Without any thought or reasoning, my body moved as if it had a mind of its own.

I didn't see how it started. Or even why they were fighting in the first place.

But when I caught a glimpse of action between my boyfriend and his enemy, through a tiny gap in the crowd, a spark of flame ignited.

Before I could have comprehended what was going on, suddenly I was in the centre of it all and facing Four, eye to eye.

I had never before in my life had so much dangerous intent directed at me.

What had felt like a moment of eternity had only been a passing second as I felt it encasing me slowly.

Every part of my brain screamed for me to leave. To retreat. To recede.

But I couldn't.

That... _flame_ wouldn't allow it.

So instead, I spoke up.

Fought back.

And if that wasn't enough, I rubbed salt into the wound by _insulting_ him.

 _That_ had been an honest mistake.

The words had just rolled off of my tongue without filter. Something very _unlike_ me and very _Christina_ -like.

However, when his eyes grew a shade darker upon hearing the remark, I couldn't will myself to regret it. Rather, a speck of satisfaction fluttered throughout my entire body for a fleeting moment.

There was satisfaction in fighting back.

As the view of the trio steadily diminished, a slight groan abruptly emitted from behind me. And as I hastily zoned back to the present, I spun around in time to find my boyfriend sitting up.

I quickly ran to his assistance and crouched at his side. With worried eyes, I examined his face for any sign of bruising.

When I saw none, a sigh of relief escaped my mouth as a genuine smile crossed my face.

Standing upright, I then extended a hand out to help him up.

He instantly flinched away, causing me to frown. It only deepened when he stood up on his own and kept his eyes averted from me.

Perplexed, I attempted to get into his line of sight. "Peter?" I tested while trying to meet his gaze. Until eventually, his eyes found mine.

Out of habit, I immediately bit down on my lip. Usually, I could read what his green eyes would mask. But not this time.

I didn't like that at all. A gut wrenching feeling began to overwhelm me.

"Are you okay?" I then blurted out next, touching a hand to his shoulder, hoping that it would soothe whatever was on his mind. But when he, very subtly, shifted his arm so that my hand fell back to my side, the weight of unpleasantness doubled.

He, however, continued to act like nothing was wrong. Nodding his head in response, he then answered, "Yeah."

I didn't like the impassiveness in his voice.

Before I could've said something though, he suddenly pecked my cheek and added an, "I'll see you in class," before walking away, leaving me alone in the corridor to wonder what I had done wrong.

* * *

I sat at my usual seat in homeroom and tapped my pen against the desk. I tried to get some study in before classes started for the day but thoughts of Peter refused to cease.

Giving up, I closed my textbook and sighed as I leant back into my chair. Just as I did though, a voice yelling out "excuse me's" from outside the classroom, caught my attention.

As the voice drew nearer, I was unsurprised when my best friend suddenly bursted through the door.

"You!" she then shouted, pointing an accusatory finger at me. Everyone, who was present in the room already, turned to stare at me. I would've facepalmed in response but when an image of Jeanine abruptly flashed through my mind, I quickly found myself smiling and nodding respectfully at everyone, as if to ask them to excuse Christina's behaviour.

Focusing back onto her, I watched as she hurriedly made her way over, all the while glaring at me through narrowed eyes. "First of all," she started while huffing and taking a seat at the desk next to me, "how _dare_ you forget to meet me by the lockers!"

My eyes widened a fraction.

It had slipped my mind when I got caught up in the mess that I had invited myself into. I shot her an apologetic smile. "Sorry" I tried to say but she merely folded her arms and turned away. Like a little kid who had been denied access to the cookie jar.

I grinned at her childish antics. "Christina," I whined playfully, "I'll make it up to you."

That got her.

Spinning back around again, a victorious smirk plastered on her face, she then hummed. "Apology accepted" she replied, "but you're not off the hook yet."

I raised a curious brow. Taking this as a sign to continue, she went on. "What in the world happened this morning?!" she questioned loudly. "I walked into school and all anyone was talking about was this fight that _you_ , Miss Prior, was involved in."

On reflex, I swiftly shook my head. "I wasn't in any fight!" I quickly defended but upon seeing Christina's bemused expression at this, I paused slightly before composing myself.

A lot clamer now, I began to explain. "I was just trying to stop it, which I admit..." I trailed off awkwardly before finishing, "... probably just worsened the situation instead."

She sighed and shook her head in disapproval. "You seriously have a death wish, Tris" she stated with absolutely surety. I gaped at her for a second, finding the statement untrue, before responding.

"I thought I was doing the right thing."

She rolled her eyes at this. "Who cares about the right thing if you're doing to end up dying from it?"

This time, I'm the one who rolled my eyes.

Ever the dramatic.

I'm about to open my mouth to reply when a thick layer of silence abruptly enveloped the room. The intensity that seeped in was enough to stop me. And as my eyes turned towards the door, where everyone else was already looking also, I finally understood why.

Walking into the class was Four Eaton himself. And despite myself, I gulped, though reluctantly.

Getting the gist, a few students glanced between us awkwardly but I ignored their stares.

However, that became an impossible task when Lauren Miller followed right after him.

When her eyes instantly landed on me, I felt my body stiffen. Her lips pursed into a fierce grimace as she studied me with disgust. I could almost hear snarling coming from her.

I immediately dreaded the next few seconds.

In every class, Four and his friends always sat at the very back. And in order to get there, passing by my desk was inevitable.

As he walked by me, I kept my gaze forward and acted like his very presence didn't faze me at all.

Thankfully, he didn't say nor do anything. Like every other day, he pretended I didn't exist albeit his fists, I noticed, were slightly clenched.

I quickly forgot about him though when Lauren followed.

Her piercing glare had refused to waver away from my face.

But when she didn't stop beside my desk, I released a breath I hadn't realised I was holding in.

Thinking I was safe, I reached for my textbook when an object suddenly stabs right into the table, almost nipping at my fingers.

My jaw fell momentarily as the hand that covered the unknown object, opened up to reveal a small, silver dagger.

I stared at it with dilated eyes. I didn't know how I was supposed to react but my body refused to move, instead remaining frozen.

Still in a state of shock, Lauren suddenly bent down slightly and placed her lips right by my ear. I shivered and hoped she didn't notice.

"You're lucky guns are more my M.O" she then whispered, her voice lethal as her breath hit my skin with a hint of ferocity. "Or else I never would've missed."

I couldn't swallow the knot in my throat this time.

I could feel the colour drain from my face, along with the courage I had from this morning.

Attempting to control my quickened breaths, I began to wonder why it seemed harder and more intimidating to face Lauren than it was to face Eaton?

And as much as I wanted to say something, _anything at all_ , my mouth felt dry and the formation of words were impossible.

Finally standing straight again, my stare found hers as she steadily removed her weapon with practised grace.

"I'd tread carefully if I were you" she then warned quietly before feistily hissing out a venomous, _"Princess_."

The term had me flinch slightly. I didn't hate the name, per say. I just hated the context it was being used in, whether it be used for mockery or whether it carried the weight of unbelievable expectations.

As she walked away, a small sigh instantly slipped out of my mouth. And though I could feel the glances of my peers, I disregarded, what I assumed were, their pitiful looks.

Instead I focused on being relieved.

Relieved to have gotten out of that _without_ any major damages. Because from what I had heard about Lauren, she could've done a lot worst.

And I don't want to find out what exactly her "worst" is.

As I relaxed into my seat, I couldn't help but to sarcastically think, _"Count your blessings, Tris_."

Shaking my head slightly, I'm about to turn to Christina when the mark on my desk, caused by the dagger, captured my attention. My fingers lightly grazed it as I sighed once more.

There was no doubt that this would serve as a reminder to never get involved.

And hopefully, these encounters with the two would be the very last.


End file.
